Midnight (The Dreadhunt Trilogy Book 3)

by Ross Turner

  The young Evans demanded in muffled protest that the old man release him, fighting in vain to loose Midnight’s grip.

  But it was of no use.

  “Be still you fool!” The old man eventually breathed through the night. “She doesn’t need saving! We’re the only ones in danger here!”

  Eventually Kaylm’s struggles subsided and Midnight released him.

  Of the four of them that remained, the old man was the only one who could see clearly what was happening. Marcii, Kaylm and Malorie stared on into the darkness, barely able to even see Vixen as she walked slowly, calmly even, out into the very centre of the square.

  Midnight watched with a level gaze and gritted teeth as the young orphan crossed the oval clearing where Tyran delivered the majority of his speeches. The enormous wolves like bears encircled her in the dark of the night.

  They moved carefully, stalking her. Even though clearly something wasn’t quite right, they closed in on her nonetheless.

  Closer and closer they drew, circling their prey in the night.

  The old man watched the sight unfold before him, for although his three companions could not see, his coal gaze parted the darkness like a blade.

  Vixen stopped and stood perfectly still in the very centre of the square.

  No matter how hard Marcii strained her senses, trying desperately to follow Midnight’s gaze, she could not see a thing.

  Suddenly a new sound caught her attention, breaking the rhythm of her pulsing, frantic heartbeat that pounded in her ears. She spun her head to look and was abruptly blinded by swells of bright orange and yellow as dancing torchlight invaded the square.

  Robbed momentarily of her vision, Marcii squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her head throbbed heavily.

  Unable to focus, she could only hear what came next.

  It sounded dreadful.

  The fierce and frightened shouts and cries of attack swarmed in her ears.

  Barking and snapping swiftly followed and the awful grinding of blade against bone and teeth against flesh trailed after that.

  Howls and screams echoed for miles around, resonating anger, fury, pain, anguish: such a range of terrible emotions that the young Dougherty couldn’t bear to listen.

  All of a sudden, miraculously, a voice sounded by Marcii’s side that snapped her instantly from her state of fear.

  “We must go.” Vixen stated. Her calm tone and levelled expression were unreadable amidst the violent carnage all around.

  Marcii’s eyes widened at the sight of the young orphan.

  Surely it wasn’t possible.

  She didn’t even look flustered.

  It was as if she’d never left them.

  More voices sounded from across the square as the rest of Tyran’s men poured once again into battle, brandishing swords and spears and axes and all sorts of other malicious weapons.

  “The demon’s here!!” Somebody cried from across the square.

  Suddenly all of Marcii’s thoughts drained away, replaced by a single, overwhelming fear.

  But it was not the young Dougherty who spoke next, for clearly she wasn’t the only one filled with concern.

  Malorie’s voice when she exhaled sounded hollow and lost, yet at the same time filled with endless dread.

  “Reaper…”

  Chapter Ten

  Everywhere there were flashes of fangs and steel in the night. Jaws ripped and tore at skin and muscle while blades spun and crashed through fur and limbs.

  Just as before the young orphan Vixen led the way through the carnage, veering this way and that up and down streets and through narrow alleyways. Marcii and Kaylm struggled to keep up with her, though Midnight and Malorie seemed to have no trouble.

  All signs of age and weariness in Midnight were gone and he ran as if he were a much younger man. Malorie too, though Marcii had never seen her move so, seemed not to falter even once.

  There was far too much bloodshed all around for Vixen to guide them freely through the whole of it.

  More than once they found themselves face to face with either a handful of Tyran’s men or a wolf the size of a bear.

  With a berserk look in their cold, hard eyes, the result was always the same.

  Driven by greed and by gold and by fear, the townsfolk charged at Marcii and her companions, swinging wildly with their swords and spears and firing arrows blindly through the crowds.

  Now that Marcii understood what drove the wolves into such rage, driven by Midnight’s older brother, she could see Alistair’s vengeful words in their blackened eyes.

  Each time Vixen ground to a halt, for a fiend of some kind or another blocked their way. Be it man or beast, Marcii always felt as if her heart might leap from her chest.

  Nevertheless, against all sensible reason, it was the old man Midnight who protected them.

  Powerful, agile and sharp-witted, he was undeniably lethal.

  His false limp became a springing leap and his doddery, wooden cane became a stout weapon. Moving almost faster than the eye could see he surged this way and that, battering his foes senseless.

  Both animal and man alike fell before him, and not even once did he seem phased or shaken.

  He was most certainly not decrepit. His efforts all these years to disguise the man he really was had certainly paid dividend, for with every moment that passed Marcii fell yet further in awe of the old fellow.

  Reaper had still not appeared and Marcii worried greatly for him, hoping desperately that he was okay. Whenever she glanced occasionally across at Malorie however, catching fleeting glimpses of her face by torchlight, she could see that her face was stricken and that her eyes searched frantically everywhere they went for her demonic companion.

  Vixen lurched right, and then left, and then right again, quickly leading them away from the worst of the fighting.

  The sound of it still filled Marcii’s ears and she tried desperately to ignore it, for it burned her rushing veins with blood colder than ice.

  Here and there as they fled Marcii recognised a few faces that whipped by in the blurred night, though they all seemed so distant and fleeting.

  She saw people she’d known for almost her entire life, their faces painted with expressions of fear and dismay and anger all at once. She was certain that she saw Tyran again at some point too, though this time for but the briefest of moments.

  Then, all of a sudden, almost before she knew it, yet two more figures loomed in an alleyway before them. The four of them trailed behind Vixen around a sharp right turn and almost collided head on with the two silhouettes blocking their path.

  Marcii’s breath caught again, although nowhere near as badly as Kaylm’s did, as his eyes fell upon the distraught faces of his parents. Though they were armed, they did not attack immediately. It seemed at first as if they were frozen in place.

  To begin with no one spoke a word.

  Vixen stepped slowly aside.

  As she moved out of the way she looked upon Kaylm with a grim expression of her own.

  Clearly she had been expecting this.

  But there wasn’t time to ponder how that was possible, for what came next was as swift as it was crucial.

  Victoria and Stephen Evans took but a single step towards their son, wanting on one hand for him to return home, and then on the other for him to leave and never look back.

  The words didn’t have chance to escape their lips however, for in the same moment a wolf crashed uncontrollably through the wall of the narrow, wooden building to their left. The impact sent shards of glass and timber flying in every direction.

  As it hit the ground and rolled the creature was instantly on its feet, poised and deadly.

  Its eyes fell first and foremost upon Midnight, for he was the real target.

  But, unfortunately, shielding his face from the spraying shards, because he had taken a step towards his parents, Kaylm stood directly between the wolf and its prey.

  Without a second thought the beast lurched forwa
rds.

  “KAYLM!!” Marcii screamed, trying desperately to pick herself up from the floor to rush to his aid.

  But she was too slow.

  Even Midnight, agile and powerful as he might have been, had been thrown too far off balance to react in time.

  The wolf’s jaws opened to clamp around Kaylm, threatening to rip him in two.

  And then, all of a sudden, Victoria and Stephen were there.

  They had been out of line of the spraying glass and instinctively raced to protect their son.

  Forgetting the turmoil that had gripped their hearts only moments ago, their sheer paternal instincts kicked into overdrive.

  With not the slightest regard for her own life, Victoria threw herself into the path of the wolf. In an instant the beast’s jaws clamped around her torso, crushing her chest, slicing her ribs and puncturing her lungs, sending blood spurting everywhere.

  Barely a second later, bawling at the top of his voice, Stephen drove his blade straight into the animal’s side. The steely ring echoed loudly and the beast cried out in pain. It dropped Victoria onto the bloodstained stone floor as the sword slipped between its ribs and pierced its heart.

  Impulsively, wrenching yet an even wider gash in its own side as it did so, the wolf spun round and snapped at Stephen, catching his head and neck within its jaws.

  The sight was horrific.

  In a mere few seconds it was over.

  The three ruined bodies shuddered their final breaths, pouring blood everywhere, staining the cold ground with death.

  The look on Kaylm’s face was indescribable as two cruel pillars of his life fell away beneath him. The ceiling that his family had always provided, flawed though it might have been, caved in heavily on top of him.

  Malcolm felt the same rush of terrible emotions, as he watched the onslaught from afar.

  He’d managed somehow to follow them through the butchery that raged on, though now he almost wished he hadn’t.

  There was one emotion however that he felt above all others.

  One that Kaylm did not share.

  Unable to stay any longer, for it was just too painful, regardless of what he might miss, Malcolm slunk away and melted into the shadows.

  But such a thing cannot be unseen.

  That awful sight would remain inescapably with him forevermore.

  From that moment on, whenever he thought of his younger brother, bitterness and hatred would fill and fuel his heart, and the awful lust for dreadful revenge would glint cruelly forevermore in his eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  “WITCH!!” One of Tyran’s enforcers bellowed down the street.

  There was no time at all for Kaylm to take in what had just happened, as they were forced again to run.

  He could have screamed and shouted in rage.

  He could have denied the whole thing.

  But instead, be it for better or worse, he said not a word. Instead, he retreated into his own guilt and remorse as if it were a hollowed out shell.

  Suddenly another five enforcers appeared before them, blocking their way. Yet more materialised behind them, outraged as they looked over the bodies of the murdered Victoria and Stephen Evans.

  “You betray your own family!!” One of them bellowed at Kaylm, pointing at him with his broadsword. “And then you murder them!? WHAT KIND OF A MONSTER ARE YOU!?”

  But the men did not wait for a reply and instead charged forward with everything they had.

  There was no escape.

  Not even Midnight would be able to fight them all off.

  Malorie moved to intervene, but before she could even begin Marcii took matters into her own hands.

  Fear and adrenaline raced through the young Dougherty like wildfire, surging in her veins as poison, fuelling her fight with sheer will and emotion.

  Hurricane winds whipped and whistled all of a sudden across the rooftops. The powerful gusts soared down into the alleyway and knocked Tyran’s enforcers off their feet, sending them crashing to the floor.

  Next, a fog so thick and so vast that it was like a monstrous, floating sheet of ice swept in and blanketed the whole of Newmarket.

  The cries of battle lessened and quieted as vision became near impossible. So much moisture hung in the air in fact that it was a wonder the entire town didn’t rust shut.

  The witch Malorie looked on in respectful awe, but at the same time clear concern, as Marcii’s raw emotion and power raged and emanated from her body.

  Driving rain followed, heavier and harsher and thicker than anything any of them had ever known. The dense downpour and the piercing wind cut a path through the fog just wide enough for the five of them to pass through.

  Without a moment’s hesitation Vixen led them on once again.

  They passed straight by Tyran and his men without any of them even realising.

  The wolves were not so easy to fool, for they did not rely solely on their eyes. They followed the scent of their prey effortlessly through the thick mist.

  Soon enough their noses led them to their prize and the old man Midnight materialised before their hungry eyes in the fog.

  But simply that alone was not enough.

  All of a sudden, sweeping in like a valiant, demonic knight with unmatched senses all of his own, Reaper was there.

  His enormous, hulking, mass appeared from amidst the foggy barrier that surrounded Marcii and her companions.

  As soon as a wolf sniffed them out, filled for a brief moment with surging success, Reaper made sure to replace that joyous emotion with sheer dread.

  One by one he plucked them from the ground and from the air and wrung their necks. Often a brief cry or yelp escaped their jaws as Reaper ended them, but he allowed them nothing else. His fury was great, for indeed all those he held dear in the entire world were in danger.

  The wolves had delayed him in hurrying to protect them.

  Now that he was here, nothing would get by him.

  That he made sure of.

  Seemingly before she knew it Marcii found herself upon grass and dirt rather than stone and cobble. Just as abruptly the fog that had hung so heavily all around them parted and lifted. The driving rain ceased and shivers ran through their cold bodies, all except for Reaper.

  Glancing back the way they’d come, Marcii saw that the fog and the rain and the wind barraged Newmarket even still. Undoubtedly the scene that lay beneath it all was one that she certainly did not want to see.

  Turning her gaze forward again, Marcii slowed her pace and looked to the others behind her.

  “What is it?” Malorie asked, but she needn’t have bothered, for she saw in an instant why Marcii had stopped.

  Vixen was gone and Marcii’s expression was indecipherable.

  “It was inevitable…” Midnight said then, though his words only aroused yet more questions in Marcii’s mind.

  “Why…?” Was all that Marcii managed.

  The old man looked at her kindly for a moment before replying, though his eyes assured the young Dougherty that he understood her confusion.

  However, even as she listened to his words, Marcii couldn’t help but suspect that, although there was surely no way Midnight could hold all the answers she so sorely desired, something wasn’t right.

  As ever, she imagined, he saw much more than she could possibly hope to.

  “It’s just the way she is…” The old man told Marcii mysteriously. “It’s the way she’s meant to be…”

  Chapter Twelve

  The western horizon beckoned eagerly and night turned swiftly to day. Morning sunrise shattered the skyline behind them and bathed the bloodbath that was Newmarket in fresh light.

  In Vixen’s absence Reaper had taken the lead.

  The young orphan always knew exactly where she was going, somehow even more acutely than the enormous demon seemed to.

  Nonetheless, they were on track once more for Ravenhead.

  Malorie did not move from Reaper’s side for the entire journey. />
  As the morning aged slowly, skimming across the sky effortlessly, the endless wilderness swallowed them in its vast expanses and forests.

  They were all exhausted, except for Reaper, naturally, but they were still far too close to Newmarket to stop now. Too tired to even consider discussing the endless sea of questions that swirled in their minds, Marcii and Kaylm just followed on dutifully behind Reaper and Malorie.

  The old man Midnight pushed on in silence too, though his black eyes like coal looked lost in thought. His legs churned youthfully beneath him, ignoring in futility the heavy burdens and worries that they carried.

  In reality though, as the morning pressed on and turned slowly into afternoon, it became relatively easy for Midnight to temporarily forget his past and even his present.

  It was mainly thoughts of Marcii that distracted him, although Malorie and Reaper filled his mind too.

  Kaylm remained unaware that it was Marcii affecting the day, causing the clouds to churn and shift and the rains to come and go. Winds flurried and gusted in random, streaking patterns. The young Evans looked on in amazement as the sky shifted mesmerizingly above them, blissfully unaware that it was very girl who clutched at his hand so longingly making it so.

  In many ways even Marcii wasn’t aware of what she was doing.

  Her heart and her stomach writhed as her mind rolled relentlessly over all that had happened of late, again and again and again without sympathy. It was as if she wasn’t even in control of her own thoughts.

  Such a thing is all too easily possible.

  As frustration gripped her, followed swiftly by anger and rage, Marcii felt the clouds above her turn black and swarm in vicious columns. She didn’t even need to look to see what was happening, for she could sense it in her bones and in her soul.

  Then, when the waves of guilt and depression came, swallowing her whole as they did so, Marcii turned the black clouds to rain and ice that pelted them as they travelled further and further west.

  How she was doing all this the young Dougherty hadn’t any idea.

  But that didn’t matter.